


Reichstagsbrand

by HarryLime03



Series: Maurice Fournier [2]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Arson, Crime Scenes, Detective Noir, F/M, Gen, Hate Crimes, Police
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:44:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarryLime03/pseuds/HarryLime03
Summary: In a city gripped with fear and unrest caused by predators randomly going savage, the ZPD has found itself on the wrong side of public opinion and trust.  Walking into this powderkeg, the newly promoted captain of the Arson desk has to balance doing what's right for his city with doing what's right for his predator subordinates.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reupload of something I deleted in the heat of the moment. I would like to personally apologize to my fans for doing that rash.

  
Chapter 1  


The sun over Savannah Central burned bright in Lieutenant Maurice Fournier's eyes as he emerged from the subway station. He was hungover from last night, trying to drink the demons in him to sleep; his hangover wasn't getting any better, and neither was the construction.

With a sigh, he stopped and headed back towards the way he came. If he had still been a beat cop, he could have shown up at the precinct looking this disheveled. But an officer of his rank couldn't be seen like this, so he had to take _some_ corrective action.

Fighting past a group of wildebeest and pointedly ignoring their stares at the now-dead cigarette in his mouth, Fournier made his way into the nearest washroom his size. As he spat the cigarette butt in the trash, he turned the sink on as cold as it could go. After a few seconds, when the water coming out of the faucet was as cold as Tundratown, Fournier took a deep breath and plunged his head into the basin. The ice cold water stung his face, but it drove the eyes of that cheetah out of his mind and deadened the ache of the hangover. A few cold splashes on top of that, and Fournier felt somewhat alive. He dried his face, and once again joined the herd of commuters heading towards the surface.

**

He didn't make it far inside the ZPD building before the sheep at the reception desk started calling his name. “Lieutenant. Hey, Lieutenant Fournier!”

“Yeah, Officer Loftis?” Fournier said tiredly.

“Chief Bogo told me to grab you before you got to your desk and send you up,” replied the ram. “He wants you in his office pronto.”

Fournier was struck silent for a moment. “...What?”

“Yeah, he just called before you walked in and asked where you were,” A small smile crept onto Loftis' face. “It seemed important. You should get up there before he starts yelling for you.”

With a snort, Fournier headed for the stairs. He was pissed, both at the sheep for taking pleasure in his misfortune and himself for letting his mask slip. He didn't know what he had done to get Bogo so mad at him to demand he come up first thing, but he knew for a Lamb-damned fact that he wasn't going to let that woolen prick get the better of him again.

As he reached the third floor, he steeled his nerves for what lay in store. With a supreme effort of calm, he knocked on the door to Chief Bogo's office.

“Enter!”

When the door opened, Fournier was surprised to see Bogo's face soften. He was even more surprised to see who else was already in the room. 

“Ah, Lieutenant Fournier, it's nice to finally meet you!” said Mayor Bellwether as she bounced over to shake his hand. “Or should I say, _Captain_ Fournier!”

The words he was about say died in his mouth. All he could muster after a few seconds standing in the doorway was a half-hearted “...wha?”

“Oh come come now!” cheerily said Bellwether. “Come in, this must be quite a shock for you!”

“I'll say,” replied Fournier as he found his voice again. He walked fully into the room and closed the door. “What do you mean, 'Captain'? I wasn't aware there were any open captaincies in the Department.”

“Not as of last night,” said Bogo. “Captain Valiant announced his retirement, effective immediately.”

“And Chief Bogo and I want you to be his replacement,” pleasantly added Bellwether.

“What? Why?” asked Fournier, still not believing what he was hearing. “I'm flattered, sir, but aren't there several other lieutenants with seniority ahead of me? Especially with my history in mind?”

Something like a twinge of guilt passed over Bogo's face. “No. You're the most qualified mammal for the job.”

“Chief, sir, don't give me that,” said Fournier with a lowered voice as he walked . “I know Vladimir Arctos has been waiting on a captaincy for six months. He's gotten two citations for bravery, for fu-s sake!”

“Yes, but he's not in Arson. Is he?” replied Bogo as he regained his composure. He tapped his desk for emphasis. “He doesn't have the relationship you have with your squad. He doesn't have your incredible nose,” Bogo opened a file folder that was lying on his desk. “And he certainly doesn't have your investigative experience in the field.”

Fournier swallowed. “Chief, I'm flattered, but...”

“Of course, there's also how important a symbol you are, Mr Fournier,” added Bellwether.

Fournier stopped dead and his mouth went dry. “'Symbol', Madame Mayor?”

“Mr Fournier, 90% of Zootopia's citizens are prey,” she continued. "Yet, 70% of the police department are predators. And now, Zootopia is gripped with fear that their predatory neighbors are going to turn on them!" Bellwether gestured around the room. “They're terrified of their own police! They look on the corner and see a polar bear watching over them with a tiger for a partner, and they wonder if the very mammals who they count on to protect the city are a ticking time bomb waiting to destroy it. Zootopia is demanding that their police department more accurately reflect the predator/prey makeup of the population.”

The bell around Bellwether's neck jingled as she climbed back onto the chair in front of Bogo's desk. She cleared her throat. “In short, Mr Fournier, they're scared. And a well-qualified prey officer being promoted to leadership in the ZPD, a friendly prey face that they _know_ they could depend on, would be a symbol that they could trust in their police department more and feel safer at night. One of their own standing watch over the herd. So,” she took his hand in hers. “Will you do your civic duty for Zootopia and her citizens?”

Fournier's stomach turned itself into a knot. Everything they had said was true, but...but something ate at him. He swallowed hard, and replied: “Yes, Madame Mayor. I'll accept the promotion.”

Bellwether clapped as a broad smile immediately appeared on her face. “Splendid! I just knew I could count on you!” She climbed back down off the chair and headed for the door. “Your promotion was backdated to be effective immediately after Captain Valiant's retirement, so I'll leave you to your new unit, _Captain_ Fournier.”

With a click the office door shut behind her, and Fournier let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Thoughts swirled rapidly in his head, and guilt weighed heavily in his gut. As he sat down, a low groan escaped his lips.

“You were the best candidate for the position, Maurice,” said Bogo as he took off his glasses.

“Don't give me that crap,” Fournier groaned back as he put his head in his hands. “I know I was at the bottom of the list for promotions. My little tango with a razor six years ago saw to that. Hell, Masopha, it was only you running interference that kept Mayor Lionheart from forcing me into early retirement.”

“And Mayor Lionheart isn't in office anymore, is he?” retorted Bogo. “Mayor Bellwether is. And when she saw your record she all but ordered me to pick you. I was elated that she did,” His voice softened. “Maurice, we both know you really are the most qualified lieutenant for this. None of the others in Arson have as much experience as you do.”

“For good reason. None of them have been a lieutenant as long as I have.”

“Cut that out, damn it! I know being reassigned off of Homicide still eats at you, but you made the best of it and you know it. Captain Valiant himself once told me he wished someone had grabbed you for Arson back when you first got promoted to Detective.”

Fournier looked up. “That's beside the point, Masopha. You heard the mayor. 'The people are afraid of their own police going savage'? 'The police need to more accurately reflect the city'? What the Hell was that crap? How many predator lieutenants were passed up before I came into consideration?”

A pained look crossed Bogo's face. “What I'm about to say doesn't leave this room, understood?” He sighed. “Enough. The mayor refused to accept anyone I suggested that was a predator. I named at least five of them before she flatly asked that I consider a prey.”

“God damn...”

“That's not all. Do you know what Captain Valiant told me when he handed in his resignation? 'I am not going to police a city that does not want me wearing my badge.'”

For the second time since he walked into the office, Fournier was thunderstruck. “He really said that?”

“You heard the mayor. She isn't exaggerating,” sighed Bogo. “I've had beat cops tell me they're having prey shopkeepers ask them to stop patrolling in front of their businesses because they don't want customers being scared off. Two days ago, a pastor wrote an editorial in the Daily Gnu that said the same exact things: that the police who protect majority prey shouldn't be majority predator. For Lamb's sake I don't have enough rhinos to put them on every street corner! Ever since Officer Hopps blew this whole thing wide open, the city's been tearing itself apart, literally and figuratively.”

“Good God, no wonder the old lion wanted out. Say-are the smoke detectors in your office still turned off?” Bogo nodded and produced an ashtray from his desk. Fournier returned the nod in appreciation as he pulled his worn cigarette case out of his pocket. One flick of his lighter, and his fourth cigarette of the day was lit. 

“Fucking hell,” Fournier sighed again and took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Over one hundred years of honorable service goes by without a peep of thanks from the city, but in just one month they turn on and start hating those predators that have kept them safe for generations," He tapped his ashes into the tray. "And I'm no better than the rest of them, not when I gladly accept promotion that rides off of that hatred. Lamb on the Cross...”

“Well, what can you do but keep going?” asked Bogo. “Zootopia has always been like this in its heart and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” sighed Fournier as he ground the cigarette out. “If Zootopia wants a prey face standing watch over it, I might as well be that face. It's not like I hated the city any less when all I had to deal with was it spitting murderers and arsonists out...”

He got to his feet. “Well, I need to go see to my new unit and find out what new horrible crimes the city has for me today. I'll have my appraisal of the status of the Arson squad on your desk by this evening, Chief.”

“Very well, Captain. Good luck to you.”

As he reached for the door, Fournier paused. “Masopha? You don't actually believe in all that crap, do you?”

“No. But at this point, does it matter that I don't?”


	2. Chapter 2

They'd already changed the door to his new office.

He had hoped to make the announcement of Captain Valiant's retirement and replacement to the Arson squad himself, but the new door proclaiming “Captain Fournier” had long spoiled it. With an annoyed snort, Fournier made his way over towards the office. If they'd already given him a new door, they'd probably already cleaned out his old desk. 

A few seconds later that thought finally got through Fournier's skull. He stopped dead in his tracks and hurried over to his old desk. He quickly checked it; with a sigh of relief he found that the officer from Records hadn't touched his personal effects. They'd even left a box there for that very purpose.

Even after clearing out his desk, Fournier still had a melancholy feeling in his gut. The lettering on the door drove it home: this was really real. He was a captain in command of an entire squad of detectives now. It was a change in his life and his career that he never actually expected to experience. With a deep breath, he grasped the doorknob and opened the door.

The weirdest thing was just how little had changed in the office. The desk hadn't moved; the office chair pushed up snug against it like its occupant had just stepped out. The bookcase of Zootopia's criminal law was still right were it always was. The city map flanked by Zootopia's civic flag was still right where he last saw it. All in all, it was almost exactly the same as it was yesterday afternoon when Fournier handed in the investigation he'd just concluded to Captain Valiant. And yet, with the sun's rays filtering in through the window blinds, it felt so empty.

Fournier had just started to unpack his personal effects when the sound of tapping hooves on glass grabbed his attention. Standing at the door was a black ram, who proceeded to clear his throat. “Congratulations, Captain.”

Fournier let a smile cross his face. “Thanks, Wolkowski.”

“We saw the door,” continued the ram. “And we wanted to give you a little bit of space. We all knew how much you respected the old lion.”

“Thanks again, detective,” He took a breath as he saw the folders in the ram's arms. “So, what do we have?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, mostly,” replied Wolkowski. “Couple suspected insurance scams, a car or two that mysteriously suffered an 'electrical fire' when they were about to be repo'd. But there is one in particular that demands more attention.”

"Oh?"

He pulled a folder from the stack. "Take a look, Captain," said Wolkowski as he offered the folder in question.

Fournier opened it, and sighed in resignation. “Fucking hell. Already?”

“Yup,” replied the ram. “A bear said that when he arrived to open his deli for the day, the windows had been smashed in and the building was in flames. ZFD is still on-scene.”

“God damn it...alright,” said Fournier as he handed the folder back to Wolkowski. “Give this to Sergeant Wojtek and get him down there as fast as possible. I want him to try his damnedest to keep this from blowing up any more than it already has. Maybe we'll be lucky and this will just be a rudimentary arson and not a hate crime.”

“Yes sir.”

**

The next two hours passed relatively quickly. The other fraud cases were disseminated amongst the wolves of the Arson Desk with no fuss, so Fournier was able to dive into routine paperwork the squad generated. He had just started typing up the status report for Chief Bogo when the phone rang with a number he didn't recognize. With a slight twinge of annoyance, he picked it up.

“Captain Fournier, Arson.”

“Captain Fournier! How are you this afternoon?” came the cheery reply.

Fournier's tone shifted immediately. “Mayor Bellwether! This is a surprise! What can I do for you?”

“Well, Captain, we've got a bit of a problem.”

“A problem, Madame Mayor?” Fournier leaned back in his chair. “What kind of problem?”

“Captain, your unit is investigating a hate crime in Savannah Central, right?”

Fournier sat right back up. “Yes. What's the issue?”

“Just the investigative officer, ” replied Bellwether. "You remember the talk we had earlier, Captain?"

Fournier gripped the receiver tightly, and then let the words spill from him like they were poison. "I think I know where you're going with this, and I can assure you-" he took a deep breath away from the receiver to calm himself "-Wotjek is one of my best detectives."

"After yourself, correct?"

"...Yes, after myself."

"That's just the issue. The media is all over this thing, they're calling it a 'hate crime.' We need the ZPD's best down there, maybe a face the people can trust?" 

“Mayor Bellwether, ma'am,” said Fournier. “I can't just pull him off the case.”

“Why would there be an issue, Captain Fournier?” asked Bellwether sweetly. “Sergeant Wojtek is a bear himself, is he not? Surely he wants to see the fiend responsible for this heinous crime behind bars since it was committed against his fellow kind.”

“Well, yes, Madame Mayor,” started Fournier, “But I don't think his moti-”

“Then what is the issue, Captain? Spit it out, do you think he'd object so much to you taking over that he'd make the investigation difficult? I'm sure that such a troublemaker could be reassigned to a desk job out of your fur.”

“...No, Madame Mayor, “ breathed Fournier as he held his head in his hand. “I'm sure there will be no issue. I'll go and take charge of the investigation myself.”

“Splendid, Captain!” jingled Bellwether. “I'll call Chief Bogo for a status report before I leave this evening. Okay, bye-bye!”

“Good bye, Madame Mayor,” sighed Fournier as he hung up the phone. He stared at the receiver for a good minute and a half waiting for the curses to come, waiting for his voice to find itself in the midst of all the shame. But it never did.

Silently, he grabbed his coat and made for the door.

**

The drive down to Haymarket was one of the most difficult of Fournier's life.

It wasn't hard to find the crime scene. Even in the daylight, the flashing lights of the ZFD's trucks caught the eye and drew one in. The patrol division officers on scene had done a fantastic job at crowd control; the civilians that lined the blockade were fewer in number than usual. Although, Fournier noted with a grimace as he got out of his cruiser, there were plenty members of the press in attendance. He managed to get through the cordon without being hassled by setting his shoulders and making straight for the scene of the crime. Even the press knew to stay out of a determined bull moose's way. 

As he passed the fire trucks, he found who he was looking for: Sergeant Wojtek was interviewing who appeared to be the victim. With a deep breath, he headed that way.

“...and did you see anything in the days leading up to the fire, Mr. Taquka? Anything that might give an indication on who might have done th-Oh! Captain, you startled me. What are you doing here, sir?”

Fournier pushed all the emotion out of his face. “Sergeant Wojtek, could I have a word?”

The bear detective looked puzzled. “Uh, sure, sir. One moment, Mr. Taquka.”

Fournier lead Wojtek out of earshot and turned to face him. “Sergeant, there's no easy way to put this. I need you to head back to the precinct.”

“What? Why?!” exclaimed Wojtek.

“I'm taking over the investigation,” gravely replied Fournier. 

Wojtek was struck dumb for several seconds. “Sir, you can't be serious. You put me on this case yourself!”

“God damn it, I know!” sighed Fournier. “I don't want to do this. But this comes straight from the top.”

The anger slipped from Wojtek's face, and was quickly replaced with hurt. “...What? You don't mean...”

“No,” Fournier shook his head. “Higher than Chief Bogo. This came from the mouth of Mayor Bellwether herself.”

Wojtek was visibly shaken. “The mayor?” he breathed. “Mayor Bellwether personally pulled me off the investigation? But why?”

“I'm sorry. I don't know.”

The bear just looked more and more lost. Fournier clapped him on his shoulder. “Go get some lunch, that's an order,” Fournier forced a smile. “And when you're done, give Wolkowski a call and tell him I put you with Mackenzi on the prime vehicular arson case. I want you to go hammer that asshole who burned that rolling piece of art. You got that, Sergeant?”

Wojtek forced a smile of his own. “Yes, sir.” He gave a mock salute, and turned away. Fournier watched him make his way through the cordon to his cruiser. Mercifully, it appeared none of the reporters had paid attention to the discussion or even noticed it happening.

The wind changed, and with it brought the faint but present smell of gasoline vapors. With a sigh, Fournier turned and headed back to the still-shaken shop owner. “Mr. Taquka?” Fournier said as he walked up. ''I'm Captain Fournier, ZPD Arson. I'll be handling your case now.”

“What?” said Taquka. “Why?"

"It was felt that your case was so important to the safety of Zootopia that the head of the Arson desk needed to personally oversee it. ”

Some of the anger that had started to climb into his eyes dissipated. “Really? It's that important?”

“Yes sir. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. Now,” Fournier said as he opened his notebook. “I need you to start from the beginning. Tell me what happened this morning.”

Taquka sighed. “I already did that with Detective Wojtek, but alright. I arrived to get my deli ready for the brunch rush at 7:30...”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

“So, what are we looking at, Captain?”

Fournier snorted as he took off his crime scene boots. “What are you doing out here, Lieutenant Wolkowski?”

Wolkowski put his hooves up. “It was an open-shut case. The perp was so stupid he didn't turn off his house's security system, so he caught himself on tape sticking a lighter up his own dryer vent,” He shrugged. “I was done in three hours, so I thought I'd come see if I could give some help.”

An empty smile filled Fournier's face. “Well, you're in luck, Wolkowski,” he said through clenched teeth as he lit a cigarette. “We're all done here.”

The ram looked incredulous. “What?”

“Yup! The fire was a simple smash-and-burn: front window was smashed in with a cinderblock, perp dumps gasoline over everything, and lights it before making a run for it,” Fournier exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Based on how much the fire had progressed by the time the victim arrived, I'd say it had been burning for maybe 20 minutes before he got there. Don't have an ignition source yet, but I know where he started it. The kitchen still positively reeks of gasoline, even after burning and the ZFD pouring water on it for a few hours,” He stood up and put the boots in the trunk of his cruiser. “My guess? Bastard wanted to make sure Taquka didn't have anything left to start over with after he was through.”

“...So you're certain?”

“Yeah. This is definitely a hate crime,” Fournier lit another cigarette. “A week ago, he had a group of 'concerned neighbors' come in and ask him to change his menu. Said that him selling meat to predators was endangering the neighborhood.”

Wolkowski raised an eyebrow. “How does that figure?”

Fournier took a drag on the cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Because indulging their 'base instincts' might cause them to go savage, you see. He told them to pound sand. They came 'round again yesterday to try again, he told them to leave again,” He started towards a store across the street. “Except this time, one of them says that they weren't going to 'tolerate a festering sore in their neighborhood much longer'.”

“Really?” Wolkowski snorted. “Goddamn idiots. Why didn't the victim report such an obvious threat?”

“Because,” said Fournier as he pulled his badge off his belt and reached for the store's door. “He didn't think they were serious.”

**

“Okay, rewind the tape to about 0700 today,” said Fournier as he leaned into the security room. The camera equipment the store had wasn't very comprehensive, but thankfully it was modern: the picture the cameras caught was clear and well-defined.

“Yup, there he is,” said Wolkowski as he rewound the video a few seconds. “Gazelle goes walking past carrying a gascan and a cinderblock-” he fast forwarded the playback until the gazelle returned on screen “-five minutes later he goes running in the other direction as fast as his hooves can carry him,” Wolkowski stretched and stood up. “Should be easy enough to follow him on the CCTV system.”

Fournier shook his head and sighed. “This stooge has to be one of the worst arsonists I've ever seen at hiding his tracks...”

“Oh!” piped up the zebra shopkeep from where he was watching the proceedings. “I know that guy! He's a regular here. I can get his name out of our system, if you want. “

The two detectives shared a look.

**

“...Yes, thank you, Magistrate. Good bye, sir,” Fournier hung up his phone. “Alright, we've got a warrant, Wolkowski. Head over there with a couple of uniforms and grab this asshole.”

The ram looked surprised. “You don't want to arrest him yourself?”

“No. The only time I want to see him is looking at his booking photo. I've got to go back to the precinct and write the report, anyways,” A note of poision entered his voice. “I'm sure the mayor will be pleased to know how quickly this case was resolved.”

“Yes sir,” Replied Wolkowski as he started making his way towards the patrol officers still on scene. 

Fournier watched him go, and then turned to leave himself. He'd just gotten to his cruiser when a voice to his left caught his attention.

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant Fournier!”

His head snapped around to see a tigress walking quickly towards him with a frown on her face. “Sheila Jackson, Daily Gnu,” she said as she thrust a tape recorder towards Fournier. “And Zootopia would like to know why their police officers are being publicly removed from investigations.”

All emotion dropped from Fournier's face. “The ZPD does not comment about internal affairs. Good day.”

“But Lieutenant-!”

“No Comment,” repeated Fournier as he got into his cruiser.

“Just a single-!”

“No. Comment.”

“Wait!” She grabbed his cruiser's door. “Please, off the record, if that will make a difference.”

Something in her voice made his hand pause at the ignition. “Why do you care?” he asked.

“Because Krystian is a good friend of mine. I've known him for almost ten years now, and even though he tried to hide it with a neutral look on his face, I could tell he was crushed.”

Fournier leaned back in the cruiser's seat and breathed out a deep sigh.

“I could tell you didn't like it either,” Jackson continued. “You looked like you were telling a little girl that her daddy was never coming home again.”

Fournier flinched as the wall finally broke. “All of this is off the record?” The tigress nodded in affirmation. “It was decided that a case of this caliber was too important to be left in the hands of a regular detective,” he sighed. “So it was given to the head of the arson desk himself to solve.”

A dark look passed over Jackson's face. “That's not all there is to this, is it?”

“No, it isn't,” Fournier sighed again. “But that's all I can say right now. Even if it's off the record.”

She frowned. “Wait, the head of the arson desk? I thought that was Captain Valiant,” Jackson asked.

“Yes. Captain Valiant retired last night, and I was promoted to replace him. It's actually 'Captain' Fournier.”

“I see. Well, congratulations, Captain.”

Fournier winced. “Thank you.” Before he could respond with anything else, something finally clicked in his head. “Wait, how did you know who I was before?”

“I remember you,” replied Jackson with a small smile. “I'm Chief Jackson's granddaughter, and moose cops are rare enough to stand out even after over 20 years.”

“Old Snaggletooth's granddaughter?” Fournier asked with incredulity. “Seriously? Well, Hell. Now I've seen everything. How is he these days?”

“Bitter and proud like he always was,” she replied with a wistful smile. Her face got serious. “Are you going to catch who did this?”

“We already have an arrest warrant issued for the perp,” Fournier said has he turned the key and coaxed the cruiser to life. “I need to go back to the precinct to finish up the paperwork for this case. We'll issue a statement when the bastard is in cuffs.”

“Good,” her face softened again. “Can you tell me any more about what happened with Krystian?”

“No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even told you that much.”

“Alright. But, if you change your mind,” she pulled a cardholder from her pocket. “Give me a call. Zootopia would be very interested to know what really happened.”

A small smile crept onto Fournier's face. “I'll keep that in mind, Ms. Jackson. Have a good day.”

**  
3 hours later, Fournier was knocking on Bogo's door. The voice that answered seemed more tired than anything else.

“Enter.”

Inside, Chief Bogo was making his way through a stack of folders from his captains. As he looked up to see who had been knocking, his face seemed to lighten a bit. “Captain Fournier.”

Fournier held up a folder of his own. “Here's the status report of the unit, as promised. Captain Valiant ran his unit well, and I found nothing out of place from his own last report.”

“Excellent. And the other?”

“The case file for one Franklin Miller,” Fournier tossed the two folders onto Bogo's desk. “We arrested him two hours ago on felony arson and hate crimes charges. It's an open-and-shut case. We have motive, we have the odor of gasoline on some of his clothes in the trash-to say nothing of on his fur, we have him on camera carrying a gas can towards the scene, and the dumb fuck kept the receipts for the gas in the same can as his clothes,” He sighed. “It's about as ironclad as you can get without catching him in the act.”

“Well, that's good. At least this dirty business was resolved quickly,” He frowned as he noticed the look on Fournier's face. “What's wrong?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

The frown deepened as Bogo took off his glasses. “Shut the door.”

Fournier did so, and then turned around. “God damn it all, Masopha, I didn't need to take this case!” He walked back to Bogo's desk, gesturing wildly with his hands. “This was a case any detective could have cracked! Hell, a fucking rookie rhino his first day out of the God damn ACADEMY could have solved this! It didn't need the fucking arson captain himself to take charge of it!”

“Maurice, what are you talking about? You took the case yourself.”

“BECAUSE THE MAYOR ORDERED ME TO!” roared Fournier as he leaned down on Bogo's desk.

Bogo was visibly taken aback. “She did what?”

“She all-but-ordered me to pull Sergeant Wojtek off of the case and take it over myself because of how it would look to the fucking press,” Fournier seethed. “Because of how they needed a 'face they could trust' solving this despicable hate crime, because of how they 'needed someone with my experience' to make sure it was solved right.”

Fournier collapsed into the chair in front of Bogo's desk with a spent sigh. “Wojtek could have done this himself. There is no. Fucking. Way. He couldn't have solved this himself. Hell, he probably could have solved it just as fast, too.”

It took Bogo a supreme amount of effort to keep himself calm. “I will have a talk with the mayor,” he said as his voice seethed with barely contained rage, “about city hall directly interfering in my department's operations. Make no mistake, Maurice, I will make it _quite_ clear that such behavior isn't going to be tolerated.”

“Thanks, Masopha,” Fournier groaned. “Goddamn it all, first day in command some gazelle burns down a neighborhood deli because he's a dumbfuck bigot, and then I have to pull one of my officers of a case that should be his. Fucking hell I need I drink...”

Bogo breathed out with a sigh and reached to open his desk. “Here. I don't want you going to a bar in this state.” He pulled a bottle of amber liquid and two glasses out from one of his desk's drawers.

“Thanks,” breathed Fournier as Bogo filled his glass. As soon as it was full, he slammed it back with no hesitation. Bogo watched him with a sad look on his face; he hadn't even filled his own glass yet. The whiskey burned going down Fournier's throat, but it was the good burn that he'd learned to love. The edge of the day's bad events was already coming off. Fournier gestured for another.

“You know, funniest thing happened today,” he said as he gingerly worked on his second glass.

“What?” replied Bogo as he started on his own.

“I ran into one of Chief Jackson's granddaughters at the crime scene,” said Fournier as he pulled a cigarette out of his case.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She was a reporter for the Daily Gnu.”

“Old Snaggletooth's granddaughter is a _reporter_?” A chuckle escaped from Bogo's lips, which quickly built up into an uncharacteristically hearty laugh.

Fournier lit the cigarette and joined in the laughter. “Zootopia has a pretty funny sense of humor at times, doesn't it?”


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning found Fournier slogging his way through insurance paperwork. Mr. Taquka's insurance company wanted a signed affidavit from him stating his professional opinion on the cause of the fire, and he had been working on it since he handed out the day's cases. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't hear the knocking on his door when it came; it took him two more tries before he looked up.

“Enter.” A frown immediately crossed his face.

“Good morning, Captain Fournier,” greeted the ram at the door. “You look much better than yesterday.”

“What do you want, Officer Loftis?” replied Fournier with open annoyance. “Or are you just here to congratulate a superior officer for being sober?”

Loftis grinned at the veiled threat as he closed the door behind him. “Not at all, sir,” He stopped and looked around the room. “This is a nice office, Captain,” his attention was drawn to the framed degrees on the wall. “I didn't know you went to Tundratown Southern University, Captain. Isn't that a historically predatory school?”

“Yes, and because it is, I was able to get both of my law degrees on a free ride. Now,” seethed Fournier in exasperation, “Are you going to keep wasting my valuable time or am I going to need to find you something to do, _Officer_?”

“My apologies, Captain,” said Loftis as he made his way over to Fournier's desk. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the handling of the Taquka case. Despite your reservations, you solved it quickly and with no bias.”

Fournier snorted in anger.

“You were a model detective, Captain. And vested interests would like you to continue handling such cases.”

Fournier's patience broke. “Officer, I will run my division and distribute cases as I fucking please. I will not tolerate the likes of you coming into _my_ office and telling me how to do my job!” his voice rose to a roar. “Get the HELL out of my office!”

“But Captain-”

“GET! OUT!”

“Alright, I'm going, Captain,” Loftis paused as he reached for the doorhandle. “Although, I have to wonder how the media will react to finding out Zootopia's chief arson investigator is so mentally unstable.”

Fournier's voice got deathly quiet. “What did you say, Officer?”

“I'm merely thinking out loud, sir. I think that people should know that such high ranking members of their police force have attempted suicide,” He shrugged. “It seems like that kind of instability could prove a liability to the city.”

Fournier scoffed. “Is that all? Me slitting my wrists has been an open secret in the ZPD ever since it happened. You think you can blackmail me with something everyone already knows, Loftis?”

“Not everyone,” the ram made his way back to Fournier's desk. “I'd say about half the department either doesn't know or doesn't believe the rumors. And of course the city doesn't know. Why, I only found out for myself earlier this morning,” A facade of concern came over his face. “”No matter how I try or how hard I work, this damned city just gets worse'? I never knew you suffered in that way, Captain.”

Fournier began to shudder with rage. He started to stand up. “You woolly piece of-”

“And of course, the city doesn't know how your superior officers came to your aid,” continued Loftis as he casually ignored the bull moose's anger. “Bending and breaking Department regulations to let you keep your badge. Captain Valiant's legacy as an honorable officer would be cast into doubt. And Chief Bogo... That he would ignore department policy to keep a dangerously unstable individual on the force just because he's friends with him? In this crisis Zootopia has found herself in with predators randomly going savage? ”

Loftis frowned as he turned back to face Fournier. “That's unbecoming. Dangerous, even, for such a high-ranking official to put his personal friendships over the city's safety. Why, I'd expect for the people to demand Bogo's resignation.”

Fournier seethed for a moment, and then sat back down. “What do you want.”

“Nothing _bad_ , Captain,” replied Loftis. “We just want you to keep handling hate crime cases yourself. They're far too important to leave to the emotional brains of your predatory detectives.”

Fournier glared at the ram for what seemed like an eternity before his gaze broke. “...Alright,” he spat acidly. “Damn you, I'll do it.”

“Was that so hard, Captain?” said Loftis as some spring came into his voice. “I'll see myself out.”

He paused at the door once again. “Oh, one last thing. Don't be stupid and tell anyone about our agreement. Alright?” Fournier couldn't meet his eye. “I'll be in touch.”

The moment after the door clicked shut, Fournier buried his head in his hooves.

**

It took all of Fournier's fortitude to not spend the rest of the day in a bar. If he was still a sergeant he could have possibly gotten away with ditching his responsibilities and getting drunk; in fact, he knew some terminal sergeants in Traffic who frequently did just that. But he wasn't anymore, and his captaincy demanded he stay in his office and do his job less the Mayor replace him with someone who would do her bidding without question.

Although, he mused darkly, he didn't know if there would be any difference at this point.

With supreme effort, Fournier locked his door and threw himself into his paperwork. The mind-numbing nature of command busywork let him take his mind off of what had happened, and he found himself making incredibly good progress. It was nearly 5 o'clock before he realized he needed coffee. He looked forlornly at his empty mug; now that he had his own office he could buy a coffee maker, but he hadn't gotten around to it yet.

With a sigh, Fournier stood up and made for the break room. The arson office was mercifully empty when he opened his door; he didn't know if he could look any of his detectives in the eye today. The break room itself was oddly empty as well, with just the TV on the wall providing conversation. Fournier had just started to wonder if he had missed an important department-wide call when someone behind him spoke up.

“Firetender Fournier? Didn't expect to see you here,” Fournier's head snapped around at the sound of his nickname; the speaker was a tired older dun horse wearing a blue beret. “From the way the department's talking, you'd think you're out taking over every arson case in the city.”

“Excuse me, do I know you?” replied Fournier with an edge to his voice.

“No, I wouldn't expect you would,” said the horse as he entered the break room. “Arson doesn't exactly have many opportunities to interact with Aviation, do you?” He extended his hoof. “Captain Jamail al-Sahari.”

The moose took it. “Captain Maurice Fournier,” He sighed. “So, you know about that already, huh?”

A look of slight surprise crossed Jamail's face as he entered the room. “Of course. The Patrolman's Underground was fast enough when I was a rookie, and that was before everyone carried a phone in their pocket. I heard two of the ground techs talking about you pulled one of your sergeants off a case yesterday.”

“I wanted to keep that quiet.,” Fournier groaned bitterly. “I wanted to keep it quiet, damn it! I didn't want the whole damn department to get in its head that this sort of thing was about to become standard fucking operating procedure. Hell,” his voice rose a shade “I didn't even want Wojtek to-"

“You need not have bothered,” morosely intoned Jamail from the fridge. “It _has_ become standard operating procedure for the ZPD.”

Fournier started as he started to sit down . “What?”

“Indeed,” replied Jamail with a sigh as he took his seat. “It was just passed down this morning: effective immediately, all predator ZPD helicopter pilots are indefinitely grounded for 'safety'. All 20 of them,” he spat full of poison. “Half of my God-Blessed veteran flight corps is grounded for God knows how long...”

“For 'safety'?” Fournier asked. “How the Hell does that figure?”

“Mayor Bellwether thinks that the risk of one of my pilots going savage in the air is far too great to let them keep flying,” He took a swig of the CoCo Cola he was holding. “So, they were to be pulled from the skies as soon as possible. There isn't any evidence that the ZPD officers are in any danger of going savage beyond the puerile fears of the mayor, but that's enough to put half my pilots out of a job.”

“Hell,” breathed Fournier. “What did you tell them?”

“I told them the truth,” bitterly replied the horse. “That the city didn't have confidence in their ability to fly anymore.”

Fournier winced in shame. He quickly moved past it before Jamail could notice. “Who is going to replace them?”

“Tomorrow, I'm supposed to start trolling the flight academies for new graduates,” Jamail took another swig. “ _Prey_ graduates, by order of the mayor.”

Fournier held his face in his hoof.“What is happening to our city?”

“I don't know.”

The two men were silent for several minutes, with only the sound of the 5 o'clock news starting filling the room.

The silence between them was broken suddenly as Jamail's phone jingled. The horse sighed as soon as he saw the screen. “Ibn himar, Farrah...”

Fournier raised an eyebrow as the horse got up to leave. “What's the matter?”

“It's my younger sister,” replied Jamail as he rinsed his can in the sink. “The clinic she works at had an emergency and called her in. She just recently foaled.”

“So?”

“The kalet ass she was engaged to left her at the altar for someone younger. So,” He readjusted his beret. “I need to go foalsit my niece and nephew tonight.”

“I...see. Well, good luck, Captain al-Sahari,” Fournier rose to shake his hoof, quickly weighing a decision in his head.

“You as well, Captain Fournier. Bit-tawfīq.”

The horse barely made it five feet out the door before Fournier called after him. “Captain! Jamail! Wait!”

He turned around with an inquisitive look on his face. “Yes, Captain?”

Fournier walked up, digging something out of his wallet. He produced a business card. “This is the contact information for Shelia Jackson, a reporter at the Daily Gnu. Tell her I gave you this,” A smirk spread across his face. “I think she will be very interested in hearing about your pilots.”

Jamail took the card and looked it over. A smile spread across his own face. “Thank you. I think I will, Maurice,” The horse once again turned to leave, and waved over his shoulder.

Fournier returned to the break room with a small sense of satisfaction. Even if he didn't have the guts to say anything about the treatment he was being forced to give his detectives, he could still do _something_. He had just remembered that he never actually got the coffee he originally got up to get, when a story on the news caught his attention like a live wire.

“-and in other news, the Zootopia District Attorney's Office has announced that no felony charges will be filed in an arson case that gripped the city recently.”

Nobody was there to hear the coffee pot shatter against the break room wall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I'm sorry for the radio silence for so long. I was busy with a lot of IRL stuff, but I got it back. I hope a chapter that's twice as long as normal is fine with y'all.
> 
> One note, no matter how much I thought it over, I couldn't find a way to make the perp from the last chapter walk with no charges filed. So, I'm going to retcon it as him just escaping the hate crimes charges he clearly had coming
> 
> Oh, I almost forgot! Between since when I finished the last chapter in this one, I got an awesome piece of cover art courtesy of the always fantastic Boreoboros and colored by the equally fantastic MisterMead. 
> 
> http://i.imgur.com/WgRhmIK.jpg

"'Based on the evidence, and based on interviews with the perpetrator, the Zootopia District Attorney's Office believes that a hate crime did not occur,'" Fournier recited from the transcript acidly. "Because of that evidence, and because of a permit filed with City Hall the day before the fire, it is of the professional opinion of the District Attorney that the fire was an accident caused by a protest gone horribly wrong.'"

"WHAT?!" shouted Wolkowski.

Fournier held up a hand and continued. "'As such, the District Attorney will not press hate crimes charges against the perpetrator pending the payment of restitution.' The mayor's office immediately praised the decision, releasing a statement asking for calm and 'Thanking the ZPD for getting to the bottom of the case and finding the facts so quickly,'" Fournier finished, twisting his cigarette more into the paper with each word.

"That's...that's a lie!" Wolkowski stammered. "I saw the report! I arrested the shithead! It was an intentional arson clear as day! How-just-HOW?!"

"I am beginning to think," grumbled Fournier as he lit another cigarette he had already clenched between his teeth, "that City Hall is not on our side."

"No fucking kidding," sighed Wolkowski as he slumped in to his chair. "I hope to God none of the wolves actually read that report before you submitted it or half our desk is going to resign tomorrow morning."

"Sergeant Wojtek already did."

Wolkowski started. "He what?"

Fournier tapped out his ashes and pointed at a piece of paper on his desk. "Asked for reassignment to the Patrol division about 20 minutes before you came in," He breathed out a cloud of smoke. "Didn't say anything, just dropped the paper on my desk and left to clean out his own."

Wolkowski leaned back in his chair. “I was going to recommend him to be promoted to take your place as lieutenant...”

“And I was going to pass it up the chain myself,” Fournier sighed. “I already typed up a new recommendation, but you know how bad Ivoryherd is...”

“I know,” Wolkowski groaned. “He'll be lucky if that damn rhino doesn't just pull his stripes. Damn it all,” He stared up at the ceiling for a few moments before sighing deeply. “Captain, if you have any whiskey left, please pour me some. I need it.”

“Can't. It's all gone.”

The ram chuckled darkly. “Already killed it? I don't blame you.”

“No. I poured it down the toilet.”

Wolkowski immediately sat up straight and looked into Fournier's eyes. They were stone-cold sober and as hard as iron. “Lieutenant, I am not stupid, and I will not be played like a fool.”

“Sir?”

“Falling into the bottle has been my coping mechanism for decades,” growled Fournier. “It cost me my marriage. It almost cost me my career. It almost cost me my _life_. And now, now I'm certain that it's why I was named captain. She wanted someone who would just roll over and die for her. And if that's what she wants? If that's what it takes to get me to pull my head out of this haze, so be it. But I will not be played like a fiddle by some two-bit City Hall shitheel.”

Wolkowski raised an eyebrow. “Captain, you can't be insinuat-”

“I'M NOT INSINUATING IT! I AM OUTRIGHT DECLARING IT!” roared Fournier as he leapt to his feet. “Earlier today, Loftis stood where you sit and threatened me with my own medical file!”

The ram went pale. “He...what...?”

“YES! My own psychological report! My medical history! My private discussions with my department-mandated therapist! And he threatened to let the media see ALL of it if I breathed a word of why I pulled Wojtek off the case today! Even my own alcohol-addled brain isn't stupid enough to know just who got that for him and who was _really_ threatening me,” He reached for his cigarette, found it had gone out in the ashtray, angrily shoved another one in his mouth as he flicked his lighter open, and continued. “I thought that was it, that they went digging to find dirt on me to keep me in line and that the found the motherload, but no! Oh no, they did _more_ than just that,” Fournier leaned over his desk and stabbed his cigarette in Wolkowski's direction. “She knew from the beginning. She's counting on it being correct.

“She WANTS me to react to this by falling into a bottle so I'll be drunk and stupid. So I'm able to be her fucking symbol while I'm unable to do a damn thing about it. “

“Lamb Above...” breathed Wolkowski.

“A little too crazy?” asked Fournier as he sat down. “Think my brain fermented after all these years and finally made me go off the deep end with these crackpot conspiracy delusions about the Arson desk?”

“What? No,” said Wolkowski as he shook his head. “If you'd told me this yesterday? Yeah, maybe. But today? After I saw an ironclad case be turned on its head with lies by the DA and City Hall? It's the only thing that even makes close to any sense. I just want to know why.”

He sighed. “So, what do we do now?”

“Nothing has changed, Lieutenant,” said Fournier through the haze and the smoke. “Our job is to protect the herd and to discover the truth. Knowing that someone powerful wants to meddle with that protection and that truth should just make us fight that much harder.”

“But what if she just does this again? What if she just pulls strings to get whomever we arrest off the hook?”

“If she does, I don't intend to make it easy for her.”

**

“...and Mackenzie, you take Sahara Square. Warehouse in the old port industrial district burned down last night, but ZFD Station 43 says there wasn't any major flammable cargo being stored there, at least none declared on the manifest that would make it burn down that fast. They suspect foul play.”

“What's the matter, Captain?” grinned the wolf as he walked up to get the case file. “I thought you were eager to lead from the field.”

Fournier snorted. “Are you that eager to get out of your job, Detective? I'm sure Traffic could use an investigative mind of your caliber to help out some.”

Mackenzie laughed as he turned around with the file in hand. “HA! I told you he'd threaten to send me to Traffic and not Burglary! You owe me 50 bucks, asshole!”

“I'm not hearing a 'no'...” cooed Fournier from the podium.

A murmur of laughter ushered the detectives out.

“Besides,” said Fournier as Wolkowski entered the now-empty room with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. The moose brandished a folder. “I already pulled the case I wanted to do myself. Railyard in Tundratown. Locomotive went up in smoke in the early morning. Firefighters on scene say it's an accident, but the yard superintendent swears it can't be.”

“So?” asked the ram as he took a sip of his coffee. “Why does that require your attention?”

“Because something seems off. Supers know their yard and the rolling stock that goes through them, so if they say something's up there's a decent chance that it might be so.” He shrugged on his coat. “That, and the super is making a big fuss.”

Wolkowski raised an eyebrow. “That's a pretty BS reasoning to go into the field.”

“Yeah?” growled Fournier as he stuck an unlit cigarette into his mouth. “Well I'm bored, too. The city's kept a lid on itself for a week. I can't exactly just go down to Patrol and ask if I can go out on the next savage predator call. This was the only case in Tundratown today, so I'm using the privilege of my rank to go cool off for a while.”

“I see, Captain,” chuckled Wolkowski. “And myself?”

“Watch the fort,” replied Fournier. “The lab said they'd be getting back to us today with the test results for the Harbrace Pianos fire, and I want you to look over them and go to the DA with what you get. 20 bucks says that 'electrical fire' was Vulpine Lighting.”

“I'll take that bet,” replied the ram. “Sergeant Pictus swore up and down that none of the hallmarks were there, and I trust his judgment.”

“We'll see. I'll be on the radio if you need me.”

“Wait,” said Wolkowski as Fournier turned to go. “I picked up today's edition of the DailyGnu,” he offered it with a spreading grin. “I think it will brighten your day a tad.”

Fournier took the paper with an inquisitive look. Emblazoned on the front page, in massive print, was the headline “ **RAPTOR WINGS CLIPPED: PREDATOR PILOTS GROUNDED BY ORDER OF CITY HALL SAYS COMMANDING OFFICER IN EXCLUSIVE TELL-ALL** ”. A smirk of his own grew on Fournier's face. “You know, this is the best damn news I've gotten all week.”

**

“So, what's the story, officer?” asked Fournier as he lit his cigarette.

“Fire was reported around 0600, sir,” replied the uniformed horse patrolman in a thick Tundratown accent. “Locomotive had already had whole engine block engulfed in flame by the time it was found.”

“And the ZFD?” inquired the moose as he started walking towards the burnt-out hulk.

“Not called.”

Fournier stopped a moment. “Not called?”

“No. Not until after the fire was extinquished The railyard handles hazardous cargo for all of Zootopia, so they have their own private fire squad on call at all hours. Emergency services were finally called because it was required by their safety management system ”

“I see...and the yard superintendent swears it's arson?”  
  
“Da. He says the locomotive was shut off cold. It wasn't supposed to go on duty for another two days.”

“Hm,” Fournier scratched his chin. “What are your thoughts on this, Officer...?”

“Trotsky,” replied the horse. “Officer Leon Trotsky. And something's not right, Captain,” Trotsky sniffed the air. “Something smells off. I can't put my finger on it, but this does not smell like an accidental fire.”

Fournier smirked. “You're right. Something smells off to me, too. In both senses of the word. Let's take a closer look at this hulk.”

The horse patrolman was taken aback. “Shouldn't I watch perimeter?”

“No. You've already got your own doubts about this, and I could use a second opinion.”

The two men walked closer to the destroyed locomotive. The maintenance log supplied by the yard marked it as only five years old, and confirmed the superintendent's statement: no work had been done on it in days after getting it prepped to haul in a load of industrial pesticides from the port.

Fournier sniffed the air again. There was a hint, even over the smell of the remaining firefighting foam. “There, you smell that? What's that smell like to you?”

Trotsky thought for a moment. “Kerosene? Doesn't seem out of place; the fuel needs that to flow in these temperatures. No, wait...” Trotsky took another sniff. “That's not kerosene. Something's off.”

“You're right,” said Fournier as he kneed down to investigate the fuel tank. “That's jet fuel.”

“Jet fuel?” asked Trotsky with incredulity. “What on Earth is THAT doing here?'

“Arson,” Fournier snorted. “They wanted something that could send the whole locomotive up but not stand out,” He stood up. “If I could guess, there's the remnants of an ignition device somewhere in the engine compartment, if it hasn't melted away.”

“So the super was right?”

“Yes, he was,” Fournier frowned. “Although I don't know who the hell would want to set fire to a locomotive this young. I doubt it's even paid off, so it's worth more at work.”

He shook his head. “Well, we know it's arson now, so I'm going to call in my team. We can start pouring over this before the NTSB comes in and starts their own investigation ruining everything. Would you care to join us?”

The horse was so taken aback his cold weather hat fell off. “W-w-w-what? I mean, I've put my time in and can take the detective's examination, but...”

“Yes,” said Fournier as he pulled out his radio. “We can always use smart minds and strong noses in Arson. Consider it a trial run. I'll let the team know to bring another coat.”

“Thank you,” shakily replied the horse.

“15-Hotel-20 to Central Dispatch,” called Fournier into the radio.

“15-Hotel-20, go ahead,” came the bored reply of the ZPD's new dispatcher.  
“I've responded to the trainyard incident, and have found enough signs of arson to open a criminal investigation. Tell the crimescene team to get rolling, and to bring an extra set of gear.”

“Copy that 15-Hotel-20, the team will be on their way soon,” A note of relish entered her voice. “I gotta say, you picked a perfect time to get lost.”

Fournier frowned. “...what do you mean?”

“You missed the mayor coming in here on the warpath,” said the dispatcher, already in full-on gossip mode. “She was ranting and raving about some leak that was in the morning paper and how she would 'have someone's head for this'. Last I heard, the head of Aviation got hauled into the chief's office!”

The bottom fell out of Fournier's stomach. His voice went as cold as ice as he clicked the radio live again. “Roger that, _officer_. 15-Hotel-20 **out**.”

He'd barely uttered the last word before he was running for his car.

**

It took Fournier a while to find Captain al-Sahari's office when he got back to Central. For some arcane reason, the department had decided that Aviation's office block shouldn't be located anywhere near the flight pad.

When he finally did find it, he was greeted by the sound of voices through the open door.

“...and you were SO lucky that I wasn't on call today, you ass of a brother! The next time you want to throw yourself on your sword, let me know ahead of time that the story is dropping today! ”

“I'm sorry, Fareeha. I didn't expect her to come to the precinct in person the morning the story broke.”

“Oh I'm sure. You called her a bigot in front of the whole city, and you expected her to just smile and nod?”

Fournier cleared his throat and knocked on the door. The office's occupants, Jamail and an unfamiliar mare, looked up from the general mess of packing. A smile immediately lept onto Jamail's face. “Maurice!”

“Lamb Above, Jamail-no, Captain al-Sahari, I'm so sor-”

The horse held up a hand. “No, it isn't 'Captain' anymore. Our esteemed mayor saw to that earlier,” His smile lessened a bit. “Chief Bogo's hands were tied, and he gave me the choice of retirement or my dismissal,” The smile brightened once more. “As much as I would have loved to make Dawn Bellwether outright say that she killed my career for petty retribution, I can't just throw away my pension out of hand. I've put in my time, anyways.”

Fournier's face fell further. “Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't know that this would happen. When I gave you Sheila Jackson's card, I didn't know the mayor was that vindictive...”

Jamail chuckled. “It's fine. If my career was the price I had to pay to get the word out about my pilots? So be it. I'd rather relax in retirement and foalsit my niece and nephew than work for this city now anyways,” His eyes went wide. “Oh Lamb Above, where are my manners! Captain Maurice Fournier, it's my pleasure to introduce you to my sister, Doctor Fareeha al-Sahari.”

Fareeha snorted. “I was wondering when my dunderheaded brother would remember,” Her face softened as she extended her perfumed hand. “It's my pleasure. I've heard all about you, Captain.”

It took a heartbeat for Fournier to respond and return the handshake. “Likewise. Wait” He shook his head. “Not the 'heard all about you' part. I mean the pleasure to meet you part.”

Fareeha chuckled. “I guessed that.”

There was a clatter as Jamail hoisted up one of the boxes in the office. “I'm going to take this down to the car before they post someone at the door to make me move faster.”

“Oh, let me help you with that,” said Fournier as he made his way over to one of the other boxes. “It's the least I can do.”

“Oh no,” said Fareeha as she rounded on Jamail. “Let him carry them. That's his little toll for making me come here _on my day off_ to help him pack up his office and leave. I was lucky that my nurse and his boyfriend were available on such short notice to foalsit, but that doesn't mean I'm not still cross that he did it with no warning!”

Jamail sighed in an exaggerated manner. “Ah, younger sisters. You think you've got it good and then they get your dam wrapped around their little finger, you know? I'll be right back.”

After watching him leave, Fareeha turned around. “You know, I have heard a lot about you.”

Fournier raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes,” She looked him right in the eyes. “When you work in the medical field, you come into frequent contact with the ZPD, and there aren't many moose among its ranks. It's very hard to forget the drunken cervine lush of Homocide.”

Fournier's blood ran cold. “But it's funny,” she continued. “Looking at you now, you don't match up with what they said about you. They said you were a broken man buoyed up only by the bottle in your hand. My brother agrees. He said that when he finally met you last week, you were an honorable man who still had a fire burning within him. You don't know how much giving him that card helped, Captain.”

“Maurice, please,” said Fournier. “And I still don't know if I can say it was a good thing,” He sighed. “I didn't want to cost your brother his career.”

“Damn his career,” replied Fareeha with conviction. “You did what was right, and so did he. I talked to him after the order was passed; he sounded broken that he had to ground the men who he saw as his own sons. You giving him that card let him actually strike back at the woman who grounded them in a way he would not have been able to do otherwise.”

Her gaze softened. “You gave my brother not just a way to fight for his men, but a way to relieve his conscience as well.”

Fournier swallowed again. “I just gave him a business card. That's hardly worthy of all the praise.”

“God helps those who help themselves. You gave him the means, and he found his strength,” She smiled. “He might have been forced to retire, but he told me that today he's felt the proudest he's been since his firstborn son was born. I like a man who has principles, since that seems to be something this city lacks as of late,” She flicked her mane over her shoulder. “Would you mind if I bought you lunch sometime this week? It would be nice to talk to someone outside the clinic.”

Fournier's mouth went dry. He wanted to decline, he wanted to tell her that she was wrong and that he was just as weak willed as his reputation says he was, but it had been so long and she smelled _so good_... “Sure. I'd be happy to join you.”

Fareeha's face lit up as she began to fish through her purse. “Excellent! Here, take my card. It's got the number of the clinic and my office extension. Just call me any time this week, today was my day off so I'm on call from now on!” she laughed.

“I'll definitely make a note of it,” breathed the moose. His next thoughts were drowned out by the sound of a growing clattering. Jamail soon reappeared at the door.

“They gave me a cart and told me to hustle.”

Fournier snorted. Fareeha opened her mouth to add something, but she was cut off by her phone ringing. “Oh! I need to take this,” She answered the phone as she made for the door. “Hello, Zeke? Is there anything wrong? ...Did you make sure you used the baby wipes...?”

As she went out into the hall, Jamail turned to his companion. “Ah, so I take it things went well with my sister, Maurice?”

Fournier nearly dropped the box he had just picked up.

Jamail roared with laughter “Ha! You need not worry, my friend! My little sister is in her 30s now and has a medical license; she doesn't need her older brother swooping in to save her anymore,” His face darkened at an unpleasant memory. “Not unless you decide to leave her at the altar when she's pregnant with your foals, like that thrice-damned kalet that claimed to love her before.”

He sighed as he loaded the cart. “But I don't think you'll betray her like him. She needs someone like you, and I think she'll be happy to know you.”

Fournier forced a smile he did not feel at all with a supreme amount of effort. “Thanks, Jamail. I really appreciate that vote of confidence.”

Fareeha came back in right as the two men had finished loading the cart. “I'm so sorry, my son wouldn't stop crying after they changed him and they couldn't figure out why. Are you all ready?”

“Yes,” said Jamail as he looked around his old office. “25 years of my life, broken down into 4 cardboard boxes,” He sighed. “Let's go. I don't want to dwell here any longer.”

“What about your men?” asked Fournier with sudden realization. “Aren't they going to see you off?”

“No, they're planning something later tonight at the best grasshouse in Downtown. They said they wanted to give me a proper sendoff where the Mayor couldn't interfere,” He smiled. “I can't wait. I'm going to make them pay for the best Meadowland Red that the place has!”

Fournier chuckled. “You damn well better, after what you've done for them. Have a good evening, Jamail.”

“You as well, Maurice,” And then they were gone.

Fournier found himself alone in yet another empty office of command. Another long honorable career ended, and this time, he couldn't just blame the city for it. He sat down in Jamail's old chair and held his head in his hands. No, this time he had a hand in it. He used Jamail like a weapon, using him to strike back because he didn't have the courage to stand up for his own detectives. And how did he get repaid for it? Jamail was forced to retire and Fournier got his sister's number. He felt disgusted at himself, not least because he knew that he would still call her the very next day.

“May God damn me...” he breathed as he stared at the Zootopia city flag that all offices seemed to have. “Fucking hell, I'm a goddamned coward.”

Before he could delve further into his own self-loathing, however, his cell phone rang. “Captain Fournier, Arson.”

“Captain, it's Lieutenant Kramer, Homicide.”

Fournier sat up straight. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“We need you down in Sahara Square. There's been another one.”

  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! It's been a while. I've been...busy. But I managed to get a chapter done in that time! I hope you all enjoy!

Fournier tore through the oppressive red rays of the setting sun in silence, heading for the tell-tale tower of gray smoke rising over Sahara Square.  He had hoped against hope that he wouldn't need to do this, that the city would have calmed down.  He sighed.  How could he have been so naive?  He knew Zootopia.  He knew the underbelly that lay beneath the bright lights that shone from Downtown.  And he knew damn well that ugly face would show itself again with a vengeance.  
  
A bright red wall broke Fournier's concentration:  he had finally caught up to the evening rush hour traffic crossing the bridge over the harbor into the Square.  He snorted with annoyance and swung his cruiser onto the shoulder.  He was already rolling at Code 3; he couldn't let this slow him down any further.  A gentle press of the accelerator, and the V8 roared its compliance to push the cruiser even further north of the speed limit.  In just a few seconds, he was past the stalled elephant SUV that was the source of most of the backup and in the clear.  
  
***  
  
Twenty minutes later, Fournier pulled up to the burning building:  St. Bartholomew of the Holy Lion Community Center.  Several fire trucks were on scene, doing what they could to contain the fire from spreading to neighboring businesses.  Further behind them, being held back at a safe distance by a blue wall of ZPD uniformed patrol officers, was the horrified neighborhood watching the pillar of their community go up in smoke.  The imposing figure of a panther clad in the black collared vestments of the priesthood stood resolute like an island, bearing witness to the destruction of everything he had worked for.  Around him, several predators were visibly crying.  
  
The first whiff of smoke that Fournier caught crushed him as his last hope was dashed.  After a moment, he was able to compose himself once again, and set off towards the command post with an iron-willed determination.  It wasn't hard to find; the white helmet of the on-scene commander stood tall on the head of familiar elk stag.   
  
Fournier greeted him with a nod.  “Moses.”  
  
“Maurice,” he returned it, before turning to the suit-clad warthog beside him.  “I told you he would show up.”  
  
The warthog snorted.  “I knew he was coming,” he grumbled out through his unlit cigar.  “I just didn't think he would show up while the fire was still being fought, Chief Morris.”  
  
“I thought you said you worked in Homicide.”  
  
“Homicide is a big desk, Chief.”  
  
Fournier pulled a cigarette from his case while the two conversed and stuck it in his teeth.  He lit it and took a long drag before offering his light to the warthog.  
  
He shook his head.  “I don't smoke 'em, I just maul them,” He then extended his hand.   “Inspector-Lieutenant Cramer, Homicide.”  
  
“Captain Fournier, Arson,”  He let out a long breath of smoke.  “So, what do we have?”  
  
“Community center in a majority predator neighborhood goes up in smoke during after-school activities, and according to eyewitnesses, someone they thought was the cable guy goes running out the back door just a few minutes before the smoke alarms went off,” grumbled Cramer.   
  
“Three people unaccounted for,” added Morris.  “Two high school students and the janitor.  The building is still too dangerous to search for them.”  
  
“I know,” breathed Fournier.  “I could smell them.  As soon as I opened my cruiser's door it hit me.”  
  
Cramer winced, and then looked surprised.  “You could smell them all the way out here?”  
  
“Once you know the smell of cooked meat, Lieutenant, you never forget it,” replied Fournier as he surveyed the scene.  “Moses, what's the situation on the fire?”  
  
“It's contained, but not close to being burning itself out,” replied Morris.  As if to emphasize his words, a wolf clad in just his turnout gear pants started to climb up a ladder to the roof with an axe.   “It's an old building that dates to the turn of the last century.  It's mostly wood and brick.”  
  
“So you don't know when the fire marshal will be able to come in?”  
  
“Not a clue,” sighed Morris.  “I don't even know when I'll be able to set a firewatc-” He was cut off as his radio warbled to life with a message from the hose teams on the other side of the building.  
  
As he turned away to take the call, Fournier turned to Cramer again.  “What do we know about this 'cable guy'?”  
  
“Not much,” replied Cramer.  “Nobody got a real good look at him.  Nobody thought they'd need to.  Some male horned mammal is all we've gotten so far.  An antelope, maybe?,” He shook his head.  “Either way, it's not much.  The people working the front desk knew that the center had been having ongoing issues with their internet, so when this guy came up in uniform pushing a cart piled with cable, they didn't think much of it. The most we've gotten is a name someone saw on his coat, 'Peter', and I don't even need to look into it to know that's fake,” A sad smile came across his face as he shifted his cigar around.  “They even told him how happy they were to see him.”  
  
“Ouch,” said Fournier.  “Do we have anything else?  Do they have a security system?”  
  
“They do.  They have had problems with people breaking in before, so they have fairly good camera coverage inside, at least in the public areas.  The recorders are on the first floor, but we as of yet don't know if they survived.”  
  
“Do we know where the fire started?”  
  
“They know that it was on the first floor in the back.  The witnesses say that when the smoke detector started going off, that's where they saw the smoke coming from.  It was too heavy for them to investigate further, so they concentrated on getting everyone out.”  
  
Fournier ground his cigarette out into his palm.  “How did they miss three people, then?”  
  
Cramer sighed.  “It's just tutoring after school.  Students show up when they need it.  Nobody had a roll sheet to check, and nobody noticed the janitor was missing until they realized that the sprinkler system wasn't coming on like it should have been.”  
  
Fournier glanced up at the side of the building; something didn't seem right about the smoke.  “Do we have names of the missing?”  
  
“Brian Moore and Albert Forrest, and the janitor is Ernst Montgomery.”  
  
“Have their families been notified?”  
  
“Yeah,” Cramer spat out the chewed remains of his cigar and pulled another one out of his pocket.  “I had one of my uniforms do that for me as soon as I found out,” He sighed.  “It was almost an automatic afterthought. I've been in Homicide too damn long...”  
  
“You know,” started Fournier, “I am slightly curious why a Homicide detective was on-scene before I was, before the fire was out, even.”  
  
Cramer gestured with his thumb over behind him.  “We had our own crime scene on this street.  Some sick little fuck got a little too 'enthusiastic' when he was beating his girlfriend last night, so we were wiping her blood off the walls when we heard the fire truck sirens.  I sealed my scene, posted one of my officers at the door, and put the rest on crowd control out here.”  
  
Fournier nodded.  “Quick thinking, Lieutenant.  Well, once the fire is out, I expect we'll be working together on this one.  I'll let you know as soon as my o-”  
  
Fournier and Cramer's heads snapped around as a crash and a roar suddenly came from above them.  A bloodcurdling scream filled the air immediately after.  The wall of the community center's second floor had caved in, and the resulting fireball had engulfed the containment team that was standing by beside it in flame...including the one firefighter who hadn't been wearing all of his gear.  The crowd shrieked in horror as a screaming canine torch started clambering down the ladder as fast as his legs could carry him, still having enough possession of his faculties to make a safe descent.  
  
“EXTINGUISHERS!  GET EXTINGUISHERS READY AT THE FOOT OF THE LADDER!” roared Morris.  “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PUT HIM OUT!”  
  
The wolf had barely reached the bottom before he was set upon by three other firefighters.  He was immediately engulfed in a cold cloud of CO2 as all three emptied their extinguishers onto the flames ravaging his body.  In a mercifully short time, the flames were out, and he was being helped onto a quickly supplied stretcher.  
  
Morris stood by while the still screaming wolf was loaded onto an ambulance, his eyes not leaving the whole process until the ambulance doors slammed shut.  He turned to Fournier as soon as they had.  “Maurice, are you going to catch the bastard who did this?”  
  
Fournier nodded grimly.    
  
“Good,” snarled Morris as the ambulance siren wailed to life.  “For his own sake, I hope you catch the son of a bitch before we do.”  
  
***  
It took another 8 hours before the fire was out.  It was another 6 before the fire marshal could inspect the smoldering ruins and clear them for entry.  Fournier had barely slept the whole time.  He had spent it making sure his teams were ready to start work immediately; he had finally gotten convinced to get even a little sleep around 0400.  It seemed like he had just closed his eyes when claws tapping at his cruiser's door roused him again.  
  
“Captain, the fire marshal just gave us the okay,” said Detective Mackenzie as Fournier cracked his door.  “The team is already suiting up.”  
  
“Alright then,” yawned Fournier as he got up.  “You got any coffee, Chuck?”  
  
“Thought you'd never ask,” replied Mackenzie. He produced a thermos and poured Fournier a cup as the moose pulled his crime scene boots and jacket out of his cruiser's trunk.  He took the offered cup as soon as he got both of his boots on.  
  
“Thank you,” He downed the cup in one gulp.  
  
“No problem, Captain,”  A frown crossed Mackenzie's face.  “Captain, if I may ask, why did you request me for this?”  
  
“Because, Detective,” said Fournier as he pulled on his blue crime scene jacket emblazoned with “ZPD ARSON”, “I need another nose on this case.  Not only is this crime very likely speciesally motivated, we have loss of life.  I need aid, and since you live here, you're already used to the heat of Sahara Square.  I can hardly ask Detective Hudson to come down here; he'd melt.”  
  
That Mackenzie had been married to a camel for the past five years, and that Fournier was hoping that that relationship would make him seem suitably “prey” in the eyes of the Mayor and her cronies went unsaid.  
  
Mackenzie laughed.  “Ha!  You're right.  I still remember the time Captain Valiant sent him to that cafe in the Rainforest District; he wouldn't stop whining about jock itch for a week!”  
  
Fournier allowed himself a chuckle.  “Yeah,”  A grim determination then came over his face as he started walking towards the crime scene van.  “Alright, let's get to work.”  
  
***  
  
The ZPD team worked methodically.  They had to be careful; while the fire marshal said the structure was safe, they were not going to take any chances with the weakened wooden construction.  
  
They had not been investigating long before Mackenzie's sad voice rang out above the scene.  “I've found them.”  
  
The two students, a lion and a wolf, were in a stairwell.  They had apparently gotten lost while trying to escape, and had only made it to the bottom of the stairs before they succumbed to the smoke.  
  
Fournier sighed as he knelt down to examine their bodies.  They looked almost peaceful in death, an appearance completely at odds with the horrifying and painful exit Fournier knew smoke inhalation to be.  It wasn't fair, he thought to himself.  It just wasn't fair that two children would have their lives cut short by this... Two young men would never see another sunrise, all for the crime of undeserved mistrust from the place they called home.  
  
He groaned as he rose back up.  As the photographers got to work, something finally clicked in his head.  Their corpses were intact.  He glanced down again; while the fur of the two boys was twinged with soot, it was not burned.  But despite that fact…  
  
Fournier knelt down beside them again and took a breath.  The frown on his face deepened.  “Detective, do you smell what I smell?”  
  
Mackenzie dropped down next to him and took a whiff himself.  “Yeah.  They still smell like cooked meat.”  
  
“It permeates them,” agreed Fournier.  “When they died, our last victim was already engulfed in flame, and the smoke from the fire was spreading the scent around the building.”  
  
“But that doesn't make any sense,” said Mackenzie with his own frown.  “How could one victim already be in that stage of combustion if the fire was detected minutes after it was set?”  A look of horror crossed his face.  “Oh God, they could probably smell him too as they died...”  
  
“Something does not add up,” said Fournier as he got to his feet, trying to get his detective to quickly move past that thought.  “We need to find our last victim, and something tells me where ever we find him, we'll find the ignition source for this fire.”  
  
“Yeah...” agreed Mackenzie with a lingering look at the two boys as the camera crew did their job.  
  
“Detective.  Let's go,” firmly ordered Fournier.  
  
The two men began to make their way through the ruined building, following the trail of the scent.  Eventually, they found themselves at the door to the main HVAC room.  Fournier checked the door with the back of his hand; cold to the touch.  He firmly grasped the doorknob and gave it a pull, and was surprised as the whole door came out with it as the door frame gave way.  The stench immediately hit them like a freight train:  gasoline mixed with burnt mammal.  Fournier managed to suppress a gag with effort; Mackenzie was not as lucky.  
  
“Looks like we found our source,” said Fournier as he gingerly made entry.  He quickly saw that the wall to the hallway was the only interior wall still standing; the ones to adjoining rooms had long collapsed into ash.  
  
“Hey, what's that?” said Mackenzie as he was able to work into the room himself.  “Looks like some sort of cart.”  
  
“Yup,” said Fournier as he made his way to it.  “Just like our 'cable guy' was said to be pushing when he came in,”  He stopped.  “Wait, Mackenzie.  Help me move that wall over there.”  
  
“Yeah,” morosely affirmed Mackenzie as he put on his gloves.  “I smell him, too.”  
  
A minutes work, and their last victim was laid bare before them.  The corpse of Ernst Montgomery was barely recognizable as a wolf, let alone the kindly old man in the photos supplied by the center's staff.  His body was badly charred from head to toe, and it reeked of burnt gasoline.  
  
“So, what do you think happened?” asked Mackenzie as he took his own photos of the corpse.  “Do you think he ran back here to try and fight the fire, and fell in it?”  
  
“I don't think so,” said Fournier.  “The burn patterns seem to suggest that the fire started at the main A/C uni-no, wait,” he frowned as he brushed away some soot on the floor.  “We've got ignition burns here, too.”  
  
“Two sources?  What?”  
  
“Looks like it,”  Fournier scowled at the body.  A picture was beginning to form in his head, but he needed that one last piece...and there it was.  “Look, there.  Back of the head.”  
  
“That...that is one big fucking hole,” whistled Mackenzie as he brought his camera in close.  “Do you think it's a gunshot?”  
  
“No, too big for that,” said Fournier.  “A bullet that can leave that big an entrance wound in the back of the skull wouldn't have left a face behind.  No, that looks like blunt force trauma,”  He stood up.  “Someone beat that into him.”  
  
“And that someone is our arsonist?” asked Mackenzie.  “You think Mr. Montgomery caught him in the act, and got whacked to cover his tracks?”  
  
“Yes,” concurred Fournier.  “But most arsonists who murder witnesses who discover them in the act just leave the body for the fire to take.  It looks like our guy doused the vic in gasoline to make sure he was gone.  That's an amateur move; it pretty much instantly indicates that the victim died before the main fire was set.  But,” Fournier gestured to the A/C unit.  “He was trying to start the fire in there, so that it would spread through the ventilation system, which is something only seasoned firebugs do.  Something STILL doesn't add up with this guy!”  
  
Mackenzie stood up.  “I'll get the team in here to start pouring over it with a fine-toothed comb, and I'll go look for the security recorders.  The priest said that it's kept in his office.”  
  
Fournier nodded and watched him go.  Once he was alone with just the corpse, he felt a great sense of unease.  Something about this case just felt...wrong.  
  
***  
  
The recorder proved as easy to find as the ignition source, and the ZPD's crime lab quickly set to work pouring through the various heat-damaged disks to piece together a coherent recording.  In the days that followed, the autopsy of Ernst Montgomery came back with nothing they didn't already know:  he died from blunt force trauma to the back of the head, and did not have any smoke in his lungs.  
  
Fournier was working through more departmental paperwork when there came a knocking of hooves on glass at his door.  
  
“Captain?” said Wolkowski as he stuck his head in.  “The lab just called.  They've got it ready.”  
  
Fournier immediately dropped his pen and stood up.  “Let's go.”  
  
***  
  
“Alright,” said the porcupine lab tech with a not-small twinge of pride in his voice, “It took some doing, but I got it.  There was enough redundancy in disks that I was able to mix-and-match data from the undamaged portions together.  I got you video from last week all the way to the point the fire knocked out the recording equipment.”  
  
“Let's start with the front desk,” ordered Fournier.  “They said that they noticed the arsonist coming through right before school let out in the afternoon.”  
  
“You got it, Captain.” The video began to play.  Men and women came and went through the doors of the center, in complete ignorance of the event that was going to befall the building in just a few hours.  
  
“Look, there,” said Wolkowski, pointing to the screen.  “Around 1420, a hooved horned mammal comes in pushing a cart.”  
  
“Yup, that's him,” said Fournier.  “That's the uniform of a Zox Cable technician, ballcap and all.  I have to give him credit; he did enough research to know which cable company serviced St. Bartholomew's.”  Fournier leaned over past the tech.  “Where's the HVAC room?”  
  
“Uhhh...” droned the lab tech as he consulted a list beside him.  “Looks like camera zone 87,”  He switched to a different video of multiple camera returns.  “There.”  
  
The arsonist calmly walked on-screen, moving with a purpose towards the HVAC room.  Upon reaching the door, he pulled something from his pocket and put it into the door.  
  
“He had a fucking key?” asked Wolkowski with incredulity.  “How prepared was this guy?”  
  
“Too damn well,” replied Fournier with unease as he watched the arsonist push his cart in and close the door behind him.  Time progressed with no sign of him reemerging.  After he had been inside for about 30 minutes, another figure came into view.  
  
“There's our janitor,” said Wolkowski.  The wolf walked down the hallway, apparently making his rounds.  As he passed the HVAC room, he paused, looking at the door, as if it wasn't closed properly.  Montgomery gingerly tried the door, and then threw it open, rushing inside.  Ten minutes later, the arsonist came running out, slamming the door closed behind him, and bolted for the rear exit.  
  
“Well, looks like you were spot on, Captain,” said Wolkowski.  “Mr. Montgomery caught the arsonist in the act, and it cost him his life.”  
  
“Yeah,” sighed Fournier. “Get on the horn with Traffic, and see if they can't pin down the vehicle he arrived in.  Maybe we'll get lucky, and it was a stolen Zox van we can track.”  
  
“Roger that, sir,” said Wolkowski as the two of them made for the door.  
“Oh wow,” suddenly cut in the lab tech.  “The dumb fuck took off his hat!”  
  
The officers' heads snapped around.  “What?!”  
  
“Yeah!” the porcupine pointed to one of the camera feeds.  “He was walking down this hallway, and I guess Sahara Square got too hot for him, so he had to wipe the sweat off his brow.  Look.”  
  
He rewound the recording, and lo and behold, as the arsonist came by pushing his cart, he removed his hat and wiped his brow with it, plainly exposing his face.  Fournier's blood ran ice cold.  
  
It was Franklin Miller.  
  
Fournier stood silent for several moments, before drawing a ragged breath. “I want an APB out on this guy”, breathed Fournier, his voice deathly quiet.  “I want every patrolman in the city looking for him.  I want him found, and I want him found now.  Have I been understood?”  
  
“Yes sir!”  said Wolkowski as he started running towards Dispatch's desk, a grimace of rage already on his face.  
  
“That two-faced whore of Babylon might have gotten him free once already,” snarled Fournier as he stalked towards the door, “But this time, I am going to nail his fucking throat to the fucking wall if it's the _last thing I ever do_.”


End file.
